


A Forgery Made of a Little Girl's Trust

by kibasniper



Category: Umineko no Naku Koro ni | When the Seagulls Cry
Genre: Canon Compliant, Child Death, Deception, During Canon, Emotional Manipulation, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Other, Poisoning, Trust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-08
Updated: 2019-08-08
Packaged: 2020-08-13 07:06:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20170174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kibasniper/pseuds/kibasniper
Summary: Surrounded by the corpses of her family, Maria knows it's justified. Ignoring the stench of rot and decay, humming along to the tune of the clock, Maria waits for the doors to the Golden Land to be opened. After all, if Beatrice says it must be done so everyone can reach the Golden Land, then it must be done.





	A Forgery Made of a Little Girl's Trust

**Author's Note:**

> this work was inspired by golden-witch's analysis of maria and beatrice's relationship! https://golden-witch.tumblr.com/post/173637013002/i-know-this-sounds-like-not-believing-the-victim

“Mama,” she whispers as she glares down at her mother, “see you in the Golden Land.”

She knows she’s speaking to dead air. Instead of an insult or roar, her mother’s parted lips remain still, her lone eye wide and staring through her. Her fists tremble as she bows her head, tucking her chin to her neck. 

The nightmare still feels so fresh in her head, but she knows she can’t focus on it. She swallows and marches over to the dining room table. Finding her specific chair, she pulls it out and sits down, humming to herself.

Folding her hands on her lap, Maria waits. She had been told to come to the dining room in order to have her test. Remembering Battler’s distressed expression and exclamations, she snorts and giggles to herself. He really had been so foolish. Just like their other cousins, they continued disbelieving in Beatrice when the truth was right in front of them. As the reminders of Beatrice’s existence surround her, she smiles and ignores the iron scent of blood mingling with the rancid stench of bodily fluids coming from the corpses.

Looking over her shoulder, she furrows her brow. Her mother is already in a strange state of decay. Her face has completely lost its color. The gaping hole through her eye lets Maria see the carpet beneath her. It’s a state she had seen her mother in before, in the nightmare as Beatrice revived her over and over again, all so she could enact her revenge, but compared to that horror, Rosa’s body seems oddly mundane.

Itching her neck, Maria resumes humming to herself in tune with the tick tocking clock. She rocks herself from side to side, fidgeting with the hem of her skirt. Clicking her heels together, she wonders if she can wish herself to the Golden Land on the count of three when the doors creak open.

Straightening, Maria breaks into a smile. She leaps off her chair and rushes forward, throwing her arms out as she shouts, “Beatrice! You’re here!”

She nearly slips on Rudolf’s blood as she barrels towards her, but she catches herself, her arms wobbling. With a well-timed jump, she launches herself into Beatrice’s stomach and embraces her as tightly as she can. The warm fabric of her blazer and ruffled skirt feels like a blanket enveloping her. She nestles into her, chirping out a fit of giggles as Beatrice fixes her crown back to its proper place.

Parting from Beatrice, Maria takes her hand and guides her to the table. She had been waiting for quite a while, but all is well now that Beatrice is with her. She jumps over Hideyoshi’s corpse and leaps onto the table, knowing her actions certainly would have been reprimanded by the black witch if she still lived, but none of that matters with the Golden Land so near that she can smell the roses.

“Maria.” Beatrice breathes out her name.

“Uu! Took you a long time, but Maria waited!” She claps her hands together. “And your resurrection ceremony is going good!” She throws her hands out at her mother’s corpse, and Beatrice follows her fingertips, glancing between Rosa and the other half of Genji’s brain mixing into the carpet. “Mama’s in the Golden Land, right? Uu, uu!”

“She-” Beatrice clears her throat and presses her knuckles to her chin. She itches her nose.

Maria’s smile hardly falters. Excitement bubbles in her stomach, and she grips her knees, asking, “Is Maria gonna have her test now?”

“‘Test?’” Beatrice appears confused for a moment, causing Maria to puff out her cheeks.

“Uuu, test for the headship. Said we were gonna have it.”

The same of befuddlement stays with her for a moment. How her brow creases unsettles Maria. She knows that she was supposed to have a test to prove if she was worthy of becoming the next head of the Ushiromiya family. Unless she had somehow been hearing differently, Maria knows this isn’t the case as Beatrice shuffles in place.

“Did Beatrice forget?” she asks, tapping her chin. “Or, uuu, is the test only for the older cousins?”

“No, no,” Beatrice says as the air grows heavy. “That won’t be necessary. I already know your answer.”

She cocks her head. “Uu?”

A chuckle bounces in her mouth as she streaks her fingers through her hair, which Maria notices is quite matted. Maria glances at her up and down, taking in the water which slips from her bare neck. She leans to the left and flicks her attention to the door, now realizing Beatrice is actually quite soaked, a trail of raindrops marking her footsteps and clinging to her skirt.

“You were outside?” she asks despite knowing the answer.

“Indeed. I was giving Battler his test.” She sighs, her narrowed eyes almost serpentine. “He failed miserably. It was very, very pathetic.”

Her low voice would have chilled the common man, but Maria returns her aggravation with a smile. Kicking her legs out, she shouts, “He’s a foolish child of man, uu! Beatrice is a great witch! He shouldn’t deny, shouldn’t deny! Uu, uu!”

She shakes her fists up and down, almost anticipating a slap to her head when she leans forward. Of course Battler would act so arrogantly in front of Beatrice! Of course he would deny her during such a crucial moment! Just when they were all going to the Golden Land, too!

“Maria,” Beatrice interjects, cupping her her ward’s red cheek, “don’t be upset.”

Her words soothe her as Maria tucks her hands together in her lap, appearing like an honor student before her favorite teacher. With wide eyes, she waits for Beatrice to continue as she withdraws her hand and lets it limply hang between them. Maria crosses her ankles, her smile pressing into her cheeks as Beatrice gazes down at her, appearing to take in her expression. 

She wonders why such passiveness has crossed Beatrice’s face. Her lips are stretched into a threadbare line, and her eyes seem misty, but Maria thinks it’s must be the lighting. Beatrice could never be sad, especially with the vast power she possesses, especially since she can revive the dead, especially when the Golden Land is within their grasp.

“Beatrice?” Maria reaches out for her only to wince when she steps backwards, her sharp heel digging into Rosa’s hand. “Uu, B-Beatrice?”

Beatrice surveys the corpses. Maria observes how her eyes linger over every one of them. From the gaping hole in Eva’s head to the chipped skull fragments stuck in Natsuhi’s splayed ponytail, Maria follows Beatrice to each one. When they stop on Rosa, she watches Beatrice squeeze her chest and gnaw on her lower lip so harshly that Maria thinks she’ll draw blood.

It’s almost like Beatrice is in a trance. She stands still like a proud statue, but Maria sees the cracks. As if the earth had trembled under her feet, Beatrice tries to suppress a shudder, which makes a chill race down her own spine.

“It’s okay!” she blurts out, forcing Beatrice to jerk her head to her, her rose almost sliding out of place with the sudden movement. “Because Mama is in the Golden Land, so it wasn’t painful! No pain, no pain at all! No pain ever again!”

Beatrice grimaces as Maria sucks in a sharp breath. She opens her mouth to reply only for her shoulders to droop, gravity forcing her back to hunch forward. She edges closer to Maria, the wetness in her eyes returning as Maria maintains her smile and offers her hands.

“Do you really believe that?” she asks, lacing their fingers together.

She nods like a bobblehead, her hair tickling her neck. “Uu! Doesn’t matter if they died here! The ceremony is necessary so everyone will be happy in the Golden Land.” 

Reciting what she had been told seems to make the corners of Beatrice’s lips twitch. She supposes it’s a good sign. Perhaps Beatrice will be proud that she had memorized all of the promises they had made together under the rosy arbor.

“Those who believe will be rewarded. Dying at the hand of the Golden Witch will give them absolute proof. With the ceremony, those who are killed will be revived in the Golden Land, their hearts filled with an unshakable belief in the Golden Witch.”

Maria remembers that conversation too well. They shared peppermint tea and shortbread cookies together, the hot sun rays daring not to touch them, the cool shadows of the arbor protecting them. Virgilia had appeared with a rich salmon dish. Ronove poured them more tea as they filled the Golden Land with a plethora of friends, drawing everyone together among the maze of roses. The smile Beatrice wore was the brightest she had ever seen, showing pearly white teeth, a few too many for the common man’s liking, as she explained how all the humans would die and awaken with smiles in her Golden Land, where everyone’s love could blossom like the roses which surrounded them.

“In the Golden Land, everyone will be happy. Everyone’s dreams will come true,” Maria says, a dreamy quality coating her words. “There will be no more fighting and no more hatred. There will be no arguing and hitting. Everyone will be equal, and lost love will return among the Golden Land’s inhabitants.” She holds Beatrice’s hands, rubbing her thumbs along her bony knuckles and beams brighter than a shooting star. “Isn’t that right, Beatrice? That’s what you promised Maria, and Maria believes it with all her heart!”

Beatrice’s breath hitches, and Maria tightens her grip. She feels Beatrie’s sharp nails digging into her fingers, but it doesn’t hurt. As long as she is in Beatrice’s care, as long as she is her treasured apprentice, she’ll never be harmed again, and with the Golden Land in sight, she knows they will never have to suffer again.

“So, like you said, let us be blessed. Beatrice, the Golden and Endless Witch, and Maria, the Apprentice Witch of Origins, will always be happy in the Golden Land!”

In the blink of an eye, Beatrice’s mask shatters. Her teeth gnash together, and she grabs Maria’s shoulders, dragging her into a tight embrace. A howl wrenches free from the back of her throat, filled with an emotion she could understand painfully well. Maria’s back stiffens, her spine cracking under Beatrice’s weight as she rakes her fingers through her deep brown curls, tearing out a few strands as her sorrow bursts around them, destroying the world Maria painted for them.

“B-Beatrice! Beatrice, are you okay? Uuu, uu!” she cries, fear and concern overlapping, but her dear master screams louder the death throes of the ones lying on the floor.

Moaning, Maria closes her eyes as Beatrice weeps. She feels lukewarm tears slide down from her skull to her cheek, and she wonders if they belong to her. Shivering, she clutches her blazer with white-knuckled intensity and sucks down a deep breath.

“Uuu, uu, uuu, uuu! Butterfly, butterfly, flying through the wind! Let your-let your, um-!” Maria gulps, the words escaping her, her mother’s smiling face taunting her thoughts. The magical incantation for happiness runs wild in her thoughts, but her throat constricts, keeping her song echoing in her lungs, not daring to breathe.

“Maria,” Beatrice says shakily, combing through her hair, her fingernails digging into her skull, “can you forgive me?”

“Uu! Of course! Don’t know what happened, but Maria forgives you!” she chirps, brightening immediately.

“Even if...no.” Beatrice shakes her head and stands tall, hovering over her apprentice. “No. What’s happened has happened. There’s no stopping the roulette now.”

“U-uu?”

“Did you not notice it?” She flicks her chin towards the head of the tale.

Maria turns to look at the chair fit only for the head of the family. She slides off the table and approaches it, focused on a porcelain coaster. A white tea cup with a silver rim filled with a light brown liquid sits upon it, reflecting Maria’s confused expression. She glances back at Beatrice, and when she nods, she wraps her fingers around it, a chill filling her palms.

“Come here. It’s time to go,” she orders, and Maria obeys, her eyes locking with Beatrice as her footsteps echo in the silent room filled with the dead.

She raises the cup to her lips and asks, “Uu, is Maria going to the Golden Land now?”

“Yes. It was be swift. You won’t feel any pain.” Beatrice smiles and tilts her head, raindrops gliding down her neck. “True believers should be...rewarded for their service. Their final moment of life on this merciless, cruel husk of a realm should be…” She purses her lips but maintains her grin.

“Without pain,” Maria finishes, closing her eyes. “Just like how there will be no pain in the Golden Land. Only love, uu!”

“Would you like to sit down? Relax?” Beatrice snatches her chair, but Maria shakes her head.

Her smile stretches into her cheeks as she exclaims, “Maria is okay! This is what needs to be done, uu!”

With that, she drinks, swallowing two mouthfuls of bitter, acrid liquid. It burns her throat, but even as her body seizes, she forces it down, her eyes squeezed shut. She shudders from head to toe, her mind throbbing, her heart beating faster than ever before. Her fingers twitch around the cup as she lowers it to her stomach, opening her eyes to find splotches of darkness contaminating her vision.

Beatrice’s form shifts in front of her, but the inky specks grow larger, slowly covering the world around her. She leans forward and wipes her mouth, pulling away with an odd white foam on her thumb. Had that come from her? Maria couldn’t even feel the foam slipping out her mouth, her tongue shriveling, her senses of taste and touch stripped from her.

Maria collapses next to her mother. The cup clatters and rolls down to her hip. She writhes like a worm, but she can’t feel her elbows and legs bashing against the floor, her muscles convulsing. Her pathetic, weak human body clings to life, and she tries to laugh at her mortal frame so desperately holding on to this heartless world when the Golden Land is near.

Beatrice bends forward. Her forefinger and middle finger press down on her eyelids. Slowly, with a smile on her face and the mist returning in her gaze, she closes Maria’s eyes, and Maria heaves a sigh, her life leaving her, darkness consuming her without a single golden petal in sight.


End file.
